


False Deities

by Quarantine_induced_regression



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Drug Use, Emotional Sherlock Holmes, Extremely Dubious Consent, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lists, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Out of Character Sherlock, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27934183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarantine_induced_regression/pseuds/Quarantine_induced_regression
Summary: How can someone so opposed to the feelings of the common folk come to terms with his own? This sets him on a quick downward spiral, will John be waiting for him at the bottom?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, I know this is a bit rough but it's my first time since like 2015. All reviews are appreciated! And yes I don't own these characters, and I am not making any money off of them. Just a trigger warning for drug use and extremely dubious consent.
> 
> Love you all!

Waiting until I hear the click of the door latch. Patience is a virtue. It seemingly took John an hour to finish his tea, and subsequently it took another hour for him to get on his coat and shoes. I don't need it that bad. It’s not as if I am an addict. Just an occasional user. I can wait. The tick of the clock reverberating around my skull. No room for an echo among the many, many unwelcome thoughts. The tension radiates my bedroom. It wouldn't be worth it to risk disappointing John. 

Not that John has any right to be disappointed. It doesn't take a consulting detective to understand what those red eyes and hollow giggles meant. I could have deduced further that the speck of mud on his right foot shows that he hid behind the toilet block in Regents Park, like a teenager afraid of being caught out, and sloppily attempted to scrape it off before coming inside. Or maybe that his favourite jumper, the one which he gave the utmost attention and care, has been carelessly "taken to a dry cleaners". 

It doesn't matter. I’m not one to judge, and either way he has every right. It can’t be easy living with someone like me. I know I'm not easy but to my credit I'm trying. Too little too late I suppose. 

Ah, finally. The door clicks its way shut, and John’s footsteps descend the stairway. I make my way to my cupboard, pulling the floor to reveal a small space where I keep them. My respite. The key to stopping the hive of thoughts buzzing around my skull at all times. The thoughts that rattles around my brain at night. The reasons for my insomnia. 

I don't have a lot of time today, John has the afternoon shift and is finishing work early today. He has a date. He's been working away at this one for months now. I don’t pay attention. I can’t pay attention. Likely some dull office worker whose ideal evening is mediocre sex, where the opposite sex has to put in all the effort. It’s no secret that I don’t understand the fairer sex. But the overarching cause is secret. Another reason for my solutions. Ah, the great Sherlock Holmes, caught in a cycle of unrequited love and hiding in the metaphorical closet everyone is so fond of. 

I unwrap the fresh syringe, I'm a user not an idiot after all. The seal breaking as I draw the liquid up into the body of the syringe. A perfect 7% solution to get me to the afternoon and ease the transition of the other substances waiting patiently to be ingested. Everything is calculated. It makes the list easy and concise enough to read. Not that any of this is enough for an overdose. How kind I am to make Mycroft’s life easier. The list is what almost got me caught last time. Luckily John thought it was for a case and I tucked it away under the floorboard in the cupboard. I'm half glad he doesn't know about the list agreement. 

I wrap the tubing around my arm and lean against the wall. Navigating the other track marks in my arm. Finally finding a spot I sink the tip of the syringe into the vein and push down on the top letting the feeling wash over me. I can feel my muscle relax. I should put this all away before my body becomes weightless. Nothing around me. It’s the flying before the crash landing. Before I even realise what I'm doing, I feel the soft leather make way for my body as it drops, suddenly I'm no longer a feather floating down to the ground, I'm a falling brick. Limbs spread out, up the side of the couch and over the side of the couch. A true picture of peace and serenity that feels out of place in 221B. 

Time flows like in "The persistence of memory". Salvador Dali's melting clocks making more sense than anything else has. It’s not slow, it’s just, everywhere. This spot in the house flows fast, even though it feels slow. Though the real, boring clock reads 4:24 pm. When did I stand up? The apartment gets flipped upside down and suddenly I have to walk on the roof to get to my room. Once again I'm falling, this time in slow motion. I pull the covers over myself and pretend to sleep. It’s not unusual for me to keep weird hours so there shouldn't be a problem. John should be home soon. Time ticks down until 4:45. And just as I suspected Johns footsteps pad up the stairs. 

"Sherlock?"

"Sherlock!"

It takes me twice to understand that he is calling my name. Before he comes into my room I turn onto my stomach to hide one of the most obvious signs of my leisure time. Shallow breathing. The doors clicks open and suddenly my shoulder is being lightly shoved. 

" 'M tryn to slp" 

"What? Look I'll leave you alone I just wanted you to know that Gemma is coming back here tonight. Just try not to... just stay here. I really like her"

A gasp caught in my throat and I wrapped the sheet tighter around my body. Hidden from sight. Panic is setting in. How am I supposed to listen to them in there when it should be me he wants to spend his time on? Was I too late? No. John is straight. I need to calm my breathing, hyperventilating will help nobody. 

"Look I know you don't think much of my partners, or sex in general, but I need to hear you agree. Stop sulking."

"Whtevr. 'G way"

"One day you'll stop being such a brat. Then you can come out and meet her. It would mean a lot to me if you two could get along."

I snorted. Coming out would be the last thing you want. Guilt slams into me like a train. I know I can't have John. I need to accept it instead of getting high and hiding in my bedroom. It’s a woman not a bomb. But I can't get past the threat they pose. No more adventures and... I need to calm down again. I'm already difficult. I need to do my best to make his life easier instead of this. 

" 'M srry."

No reply. Is he that mad? Surely not. 

"Jhn?"

I turn around, the room spinning, my eyes struggling to focus. Blinking helped slow down the hurricane. He's gone. When did he leave? Am I that gone still? I best try and sleep before they get home. Except it's not working. It has never failed me before. Well, on rare occasions. Why are there so many thoughts? I jolt up clutching my head. If I weren't so stupidly high I would know that no matter how hard I clench my jaw, or block my eyes, shaking my head won't get rid of these paranoid thoughts. I need more. That’s the only solution. I need something else. 

\- Gone out for a case. Only a 5. You're not needed. - SH

\- Hello to you too. Ok. Just try not to do something stupid. I really need this to go well. - JW

Dropping my phone on my bed I make my way out. Pulling on my belstaff I decide to walk to Bill. It's not as if I have a set dealer. I piss them off too. It's gotten ugly before. I wish I could learn to just 

"SHT UP!"

Why is everyone staring at me? Is this paranoia? They're judging me. Why? 

"You good mate?"

I spin around, almost falling over. 

"Srry?"

"You just, never mind. Just maybe be careful about what you say around here y'know?"

Oh. That’s what happened. I screamed shut up in a crowd of drug dealers and junkies. That’s no good. Can I do anything right? I can't will my feet to turn around. Still staring at this man. Nice enough to not jump me. 

"Look, I'll help you. Where are you trying to go?"

"Blls." 

"Sorry mate what was that? You're not making much sense"

Slurred speech. Ok. That makes life difficult. 

"Bills"

The man nods in understanding and ushers me through the crowd. I unknowingly lean into his touch. Am I that broken? That touch starved? He grips my shoulder tighter. We get odd looks as we walk. I must be a sight. Barely able to walk. Stumbling every few metres. God. This man is a saint. My eyes half closed, we turn a corner. 

"We 'ready there?"

"Shh just trust me. I'll get you what you need."

Soon enough we sit down. And I'm roughly pulled closer to him. People are talking but I don't understand. I feel so heavy. I let my head slump forward. Suddenly everything is shaking. 

"Hey. Keep your head up if you want the good stuff."

I look around and see a large man approach. It's not Bill. Maybe Bill is away. He does that sometimes. But I've never seen this man before. It doesn't matter to me. I just need something to shut my brain up. I need something to get rid of John. I try to tell him what I want but a hand is shoved over my mouth. Maybe I said something wrong again. This man has been nice so far, and I am usually mean. So maybe I'm misreading and he is preventing me from getting my head kicked in. 

I overhear something about fentanyl? No that can't be right. I can't afford fentanyl and I can't afford anything that’s been cut with fentanyl. 

"No cnt affrd fentnl" 

"Shh love. Let me help. I can tell you're suffering. Let me give you a helping hand."

My head hits against his shoulder. Suddenly someone is pulling my arm. The rubber once again tied just above my elbow. The faint sound of plastic brings relief that this is a fresh needle. Whoever I'm with must be important. Or dangerous. Or just important. My mouth betrays me and a gasp falls from my lips as the drug enters my system. The man next to me tenses up.

The next thing I know I'm being guided to a room. 

"No I gtta go hme." 

"Let me walk you? You're in no state to go alone. Who knows who is out there?"

I agree and the walk home goes by in a blur. One moment we're down a dingy alley and the moment I blink I can see my street. John isn't home yet. He shouldn't be. If he was the door would be unlocked. He has a terrible habit of leaving the front door unlocked. 

"Let me help you upstairs."

I fumble with my key so the man helps me. As soon as the door is shut I turn around and try to look him in the eye. He has short dirty blonde hair and is close enough to John that I touch his chest. 

"Ah ah ah. Let me get you a drink first. It'll be quick don't worry."

He walks to the kitchen, clumsily searching for a glass. Swaying on my feet without a sturdy support, I fall back into the table, breaking it immediately. A giggle escapes my lips. Finally the man hands me the glass. When I'm done, I try to put it on the table, already having forgotten the previous incident. The glass smashes on the ground. 

I try to mutter something about repayment but it seems he had already planned this. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. It’s easy to pretend it’s John. The last thing I feel is my body being roughly dropped onto the bed. The rest is darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment I awoke, my body screamed at me. Abused. Broken. My back in particular. Sleeping on the floor must have put it out. I looked around at any signs to validate my memories of the previous night. I couldn't read any hints of what might have happened. Ah. That’s fairly convincing. I stood up to see the crumpled sheets and to further inspect the offending item. A used condom. That would explain the scratchy ache radiating from my lower half. There is also a small vial with a note attached. 

'Here are your leftovers. You paid well enough. Call me if you feel the need again. My numbers in your phone. 

P.s. you might want to take this within two hours of waking up if your comedown will be anything like mine was the first time. 

Love Johnathon.  
Xoxo'

How ironic. My John would never allow this, let alone encourage this. But he isn't my John. He belongs to her. That's what got me here. My selfish desire to claim John as mine. That's how I ended up taking whatever the hell that was. 

I take diagnostics to try and deduce what the substance was before taking anymore. From the note I know I must have said something about never having tried it before. Cocaine is out, so is morphine, and marijuana, MDMA is gone anyway as this is liquid. 

Symptoms:  
-Pounding in head  
-Racing / non-stop negative thoughts  
-Otherwise unable to think  
-As above, feelings of intense depression  
-General anxiety / paranoia  
-Increased heart rate  
-Weather inappropriate sweating  
-Dry mouth  
-General aches

It has to be a mix. Come on think. My brain is covered in a thick fog and thinking feels something akin to walking wading in quicksand. I check to see if there is a label on the vial. Lucky. Modern drug dealers put all kinds of substances in so they require some sort of identification. No two vials are ever the same. 

C22H28N2O

C21H23NO5

C12H15NO3

Oh. Oh no. Shit. Fentanyl, fairly well documented to be highly addictive. I think I knew about that one. Heroin. Oh shit. Ethylone. Very poorly documented after effects. How much of each is unknown. It's no longer possible to tell. I can barely think as is. The pain in my back brings me back to reality. 

I move to look at myself in the full length mirror. Bruises of varying colours and sizes litter my body. Fingertip shaped ones around my hips and thighs. My wrists wear two dark rings around almost the full circumference. The pain in my shoulder evident of force. There must be a sprain or dislocation. Not important right now. I turn around to see a large purple bruise blossoming along my back. More concerningly are the ones I assume to be on the back of my neck, if the pain is anything to go by. I check and confirm my deductions. Must have been pinned by the back of my neck. 

It's been an age since I have engaged in such behaviour. Mycroft won't be pleased. Not that anywhere I was last night would have security cameras, bar the streets. Mycroft. The list. I have no idea how much if each was in that syringe last night. 

I pull out a new syringe from my second hiding spot. This one’s a bit more convenient. A false first aid kit lazily hidden under the bed. Just as I had last night. Just as it was last night, John was out. As indicated via text that he would be staying with Gemma. I place the syringe on the bedside table. This time I want to make sure John is out. This can wait. 

When getting dressed I make sure to put on my scarf and coat. It's winter so this behaviour is perfectly acceptable. Plus the idea of central heating in London is laughable. I wrap the offending item in a tissue and make my way out to the bin. A slight limp. Perfectly normal for what I deduce happened last night. John is standing in the kitchen. Arms crossed, staring dead eyed straight ahead. He's waiting for me. This can't be good. I don't know enough about what I did to defend myself. 

"Sleeping beauty is finally awake."

I quickly move to toss the tissue away before I turn back to John. Finally taking a good look at the flat. The coat rack knocked over and a crack decorating the already fragile wall. The table is broken with shards of glass surrounding the corner. My heart sank, while simultaneously becoming more noticeable than ever. The rapid beating doing nothing to help formulate an excuse. I stumble towards the couch and lay down. 

"Who is the unlucky lady that had to deal with all this?"

John's arms flailed in an attempt to gesture to the widespread chaos that gave away the mess that was last night. The mess that was the great Sherlock Holmes giving in to emotions like the goldfish he truly was. 

"And no. Don't blame this on any sort of case. You're not a victim, surprisingly I CAN hear. The walls are fairly thin."

"Or were you bored again? You're so lucky that I told Gemma to wait outside in case you pulled something like this."

"Jhn I -"

My speech still slurring a little. Not noticeable to a man in Johns current state. Either way I need to get a hold of myself. 

"No. It's not your turn. I thought you could manage one thing. But it's too hard for you to think outside yourself. I don't want to hear it anymore. You may not be aware of what impact you have on others but you damn well know what being selfish looks like." 

Silence coated the room, John’s emotions palpable. The tension felt like a thick fog, it made navigating this conversation more difficult than it was. My emotions getting the better of me. Tears sting my eyes, and anyway I don't trust my voice to not shake or slur. Comedowns are always the worst. John shouting doesn't help. Though I deserve it. 

"So now there's nothing to say? My my. I should be proud I've finally left the one and only asshole known as Sherlock Holmes speechless."

I didn't know what I could possibly say. Sober as ever a million thoughts finally make their way back to my head. None of them useful. I love you isn't an option. Neither is I hate your girlfriend because she makes me feel inadequate. I muster up all my remaining energy to keep my voice level. 

"You said it wasn't my turn."

John laughed a humourless chuckle. His head turning around as if to gesture at the ghosts in the room at my audacity.

"You're right Sherlock. It's not your turn anymore. It's my turn to be selfish. Have some decency to explain before I leave for the rest of the weekend. It's Saturday so I can still salvage my time with Gemma." 

Once again the silence rang out in the flat. My mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. That's how I felt anyway. I didn't anticipate this level of anger. 

"Right. Don't call me I need to be with someone normal for once. Someone that understands human emotions. Someone human."

Before I can say anything the door slams shut. Now there is no threat of being exposed, the tears run loose. I stumble back to my room. Vision blurred. I wipe my eyes and turn to the syringe. I can already feel a burning in my limbs that can only be extinguished by this. My limbs move of their own accord. Like magnets to metal.


	3. Chapter 3

I stare at the note besides the syringe. Johnathon. Fake John. Temporary relief. I take the syringe and fill it up with all the remaining liquid. I go through the familiar routine as I inject myself with this disgusting concoction. Picking up my phone, I text Johnathon. 

\- Cime iver. Tken rst of vial. Waotinf fr u. Dorr unlcked.   
Coxo

Five minutes pass. The ding of my phone sending shivers down my spine. 

\- Coming up.

I wait for him in my room. Only lucid enough to feel myself being pulled up off of my back. My body feels limps. Every touch a fire of ecstasy. Except it's more forceful than I remember. Hardly preparing my already abused behind. It doesn't matter. It's good enough. Easy enough to imagine it's John who came home angry and decided to take me right away. It's John behind me, pinning me down. I try to turn around and suddenly there’s a hand in my hair whipping my head back around and banging it against the edge of the bedhead. All I feel is the whiplash in my neck and, finally, again the screen in my mind fades to black. 

As soon as I awake the pounding in my head is decidedly more intense. All the symptoms from yesterday back with a vengeance. I sit up to see a new bruise, this time on my upper forehead. An arm pulls me back down. It's Johnathon. Ah. So he likes it rough, but deep down nice enough. I try to speak but my mouth can't form the words. Checking my phone I see a message from John. 

\- Will be home tomorrow night. Easier to travel to work from Gemma’s. I can't deal with whatever you've done tonight anyway. - JW

Oh. I've really done it now. Practically pushed him into her house. It's over with now. He's gone. Tears threaten to fall again. I try not to hyperventilate but it seems like a never ending panic attack. Suddenly an arm is around my waist. 

"Srry for waking you."

Each vowel lasting a second too long. 

"Nonsense love. Now I get more time to continue where we finished last night. I've even brought you a gift for being so good at paying your dues."

The small vial in his hand shimmered like liquid gold. I try to reach for it but my limbs shake. I take deep breaths and try again. The shake not ready to stop. 

"Here. Let me."

I fall back against the bedhead. I let my arm be pulled away. Waiting for Johnathon to... oh there it is. A smile spreads across my face. John. No. Johnathon hoists me up onto his lap. My body lolling around. Threatening to fall backwards without Johnathon’s help. 

"I read the text. Your flatmate is out again tonight. And that couch looks awful comfy."

A noise breaks the sloppy kisses. A giggle. My giggle. As soon as my abused back hits the couch the euphoria rises in me. This time I'm awake for all of the act. Johnathon still having not prepared me, I'm thankful for how aroused he is and hoping this will make it a quick fuck. My head flops to the side in lazy euphoria. A hand slaps my face and then grips my chin. I guess that will bruise. It doesn't matter at the moment. There is no pain. Only slight pressure. I smile wider. Not sure why. Must be the angel drug. That’s what it should be called. Angel juice. He pulls out and goes to throw the condom away. 

I spread myself out. One leg up the side of the couch, and one arm draped over the edge, the other behind my head, also drooping off of it. 

"You get ready. I will be back in a few hours. After all it's only 5:30pm. We have all evening."

When did it get to 5:30? How long was he passed out for? He didn't care. The real John wouldn't be home for another 24 hours. I tried to watch him for any sign of emotion. My eyes unable to focus. I let them roll back into my head. Just enjoying the pleasant nothingness.

I flip around facing the back of the couch and grab the light throw. I only have enough movement to throw it over my body before I fall into a state of glassy eyed stares. And sure enough my lover is back. Not a very good lover though. Not anything like I imagine the real John to be. I can picture it. The firm yet gentle touch of army personnel. If I try hard enough I can feel my skin tingle as if his warm hands were comforting me once again. Suddenly everything was cold again. 

Behind me a voice pulls me back out of my thoughts. 

"Oh no. You're shaking. I guess that means you need some more. Lucky for you that’s your gift. It's 8:30 now. Still plenty of time for round four."

I desperately want more. I don't want to feel how I felt the last couple of days. But I don't think I can handle anymore 'payment'. It's never worth it anyway. The sex that is. Oh god is the drug worth it. 

"No rownd foarrr. I cnt mve."

"Let's see how you feel afterwards. Besides, you don't even have to move. Just let me get you a nice clean syringe."

I can't make any sort of noise of movement to disagree. So I just lie there waiting. If he gives me anymore I might pass out anyway. I slip out of consciousness for just a second before I hear it. 

"I see you haven't moved."

Heavy footsteps move across the apartment. They sound like they are coming from the wrong direction. 

"Jhn I said no rown fourrrr. Jus giv me and I pay back laterr."

A rough shove on my shoulder startles me. I try to sit up only to immediately collapse onto the floor. A laugh escapes my lips as my limbs flop down either side of me. The throw shredded in the process. Not covering anything. Whole body exposed. Bruises and all. My eyes roll back as another laugh bursts out of me. 

Johnathon moves over to me and lifts me onto the couch before going through the familiar routine that is intravenous narcotics. This time he leaves the syringe in my arm, clearly preoccupied by my nakedness. This time on display. The mindless sex begins. Literally mindless. My head flops down and hangs over the edge of the couch. 

"Hrry up 'fore real Jhn comes hme. Get ovr an done with."

Another sound of footsteps echo across the living room. And the banging of something onto the floor. I should know. Should be able to deduce. Oh well. Whatever’s happening can wait until the euphoria wears off. Johnathon pulls out immediately and scrambles for the door.

"No mre. Rst time. Paybck lterrr." 

"Sherlock. What have you done?" 

Opening my eyes I can barely make out a figure in the doorway. That doesn't sound right. Johnathon doesn't care. Suddenly rapid footsteps make their way to me. Yanking out the syringe. I don't understand. 

"Sherlock look at me." 

My eyes try to focus. They can't. Maybe I should sleep it off. They will work in the morning. A shake changes my plans. Suddenly I feel nauseous. 

"Sherlock where did all these marks come from?"

"Wht? Yknow how. You were thre. I thnk anway. Dont emember. Let rest. Dnt feel well." 

John pries my eyes open. They just roll back anyway. Just now noticing the movement of my jaw. Then the clenching of my teeth. 

The person walks away and I try to get up to follow them. I have to sit and steady my swirling vision. After all that my body seemingly gives out after four steps. My body immediately starts retching and rejecting everything in my body. Which is not much. All that’s left is the sting of bile. The last thing I notice is the start of a phone call. 

"Mycrof-"


	4. Chapter 4

Dry retching again. Not fun to wake up to. My eyes won't open. They feel glued and weighted down for extra measure. Not that them being shut helps, the obscene glow from the fluorescent lights flows in like lava. Burning my eyes. As soon as I do manage to open my eyes though, they immediately roll into the back of my head. People are yelling outside. One person is screaming and the other is yelling. What’s the difference? Everything is so loud. The voices outside stop. 

"Just shut up!"

Trying to sit up proves difficult. I've never quite felt so weak. Suddenly a hand is on my back, pulling me up. A little harshly but still. Help. Cracking my eyes back open I see him. God couldn't it have been anyone but him? 

"What have you done, brother mine?"

Rage fills up inside of me. I could punch him right now. Except I can't. I'm weak. Nothing except a limp piece of human waste. Ordinary. Lazy. 

"I'll spare you the trouble of talking. I found your list dear brother. Since when were we taking such risky substances? Ethylone? As for that man. I thought you were done. After the last scare."

What man? What on earth is he... oh. Fake John. Much too tall. Much too rough. Much too forceful. Much too encouraging of certain behaviours. 

"Jhnthn? He's nobdy. Dnt worry. I’m guessin you dint come alone. There must be a queue to chastise me."

At least I can control my voice now. It would be the only thing. Can't even control such ordinary urges. Such human like cravings and feelings. As soon as I make eye contact with Mycroft tears threaten to spill again, the force it takes to prevent this causes another bout of bile to rise from my worn out throat. 

"Careful now. Although I'm sure you were aware of these upcoming symptoms. Ah but you wouldn't be. This is your first time. You know to be more careful. How did this happen?"

As soon as I opened my mouth to explain I saw John in the doorway. I choked. I can't speak. Nothing is going to plan. This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. I can't do this. It would ruin everything. Before I know it I'm hyperventilating again, this time a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I can't look at them.

Hands steady me. One on either shoulder. A weight pressing down on the end of the bed. I look up. It's John. He's such an angel, but the eye contact wracks my body with guilt. Tears freely flowing. I changed my mind. Heroes do exist. They came in the form of John Watson. What is he saying to me? I can't tell. I wish my brain would shut up so I could hear him. My breathing is too loud. Heart rate too loud. His hands move to either side of my cheeks. 

"Nothing else matters. Ok? Just breath. Anything else can wait. Alright?"

I lightly hold on to his wrists. Like a guardrail. John why can't you catch me? Why should he catch me. I threw myself off of this cliff. I deserve it. 

One of my hands is moved to his chest. I can feel his breath. What makes him so alive. 

"Just follow my breath. Breathe with me. That's it. That's the way."

Much calmer I wipe the tears from my face. Snuffling. This is disgusting. This isn't me. How come I can't control it? But it's not about me right now. It's about them. I owe them an explanation.

"I- I can explain."

"Take your time. It doesn't have to be now. We aren't the focus right now. Our emotions come second."

"I'm fine. Not long enough for withdrawal. Just simple comedown as my body detoxes."

"Sherlock." 

"No really. It's fine. I- Let me tell you what I can remember."

"Jesus Sherlock."

Two voices. John. John and who? John and... 

"Greg." 

He moves into my field of view. Nodding in acknowledgement. Rage boils up within me again. I can't fully stop it. 

"Why are you here? Are any of the other members of the circus here? Come to make fun of me? Hmm? Watch the great Sherlock Holmes lose control? Surely you're not here to arrest me? If you are you can leave because without me you're nothing anyway. You can't even solve a case without me! I'll be damned if you think I will do it for you in prison!"

A sigh resonates around the room. Tension building. As the moment passes I realise what I have done. What was that? Lestrade was one of the most caring and helpful people in my life. My head hung in shame. 

"I'm sorry."

"Right. Well if you're done, I'm here because I'm your friend to absolute tosser. Just like the last time. And also - no. That can wait. I'm your friend."

The room was silent. It was my turn to speak. John nodded as if giving me permission. I fought to control the irritability rising. It was just the drug. 

"It was Friday afternoon. I waited for John to go to work. I swear then it was just cocaine. I was at the start of the comedown when he got home. It wasn't until after he left for his date that I went to get more."

"More Sherlock? Jesus. More of what? This isn't cocaine. Even I'm not stupid enough to believe that."

That was John’s voice. Clearly angry. Doing a poor job of trying to hide it. 

"I'm not finished!"

I yelled again. Shit. 

Followed immediately by a quick

"Sorry, John. Anyway. I only meant to go get morphine so I could sleep. But then I had a small incident and that’s when I met John. Fake John. No! Johnathon. He noticed I was mid comedown and offered to walk me to Bill. But. But. What happened? WHAT HAPPENED?"

The palms of my hands grind into my temple. Eyes squeezed shut. 

"Just take your time."

"Then he- he took me somewhere else. I was half asleep I don't remember. Someone injected me with something. I know now but I didn't even realise what was going on. He tried to lead me to a room. Some room. What room?"

"The room doesn't matter. It's ok. Just keep going with what you know."

"I said - something. About going home? I said I needed to go home! He insisted on walking me. And then I couldn't unlock the door. I could barely see. Something happened. He carried me. To my bed. I woke up. A few bruises. Nothing that serious."

"Nothing that serious? Sherlock bloody hell I understand rough sex but you barely missed being concussed. And the bruises on your wrist. Sherlock-"

"I know what happened. Well I deduced what happened. It was seperate incidents. The first I don't remember. Everything fades out after being put on the bed. Then. Well. You were there for that. After you left me I texted him. Told him to come over. I had taken the rest of the vial. I don't remember anything afterwards."

"Why did you bring him back Sherlock? He took advantage of you! He knew what he was doing right from the get go! And that doesn't explain why you started up again. You know you could have come to me. I could have helped!"

"John I can't answer that. I just can't. You wouldn't have been able to help."

Mycroft and Lestrade were gone. Not in the doorway. Not in view. Now John needs to leave before I tell him…

"BECAUSE OF YOU!"

John looked hurt. As if he had been stabbed. Right in the heart. His expression turned dangerous. 

"I- I meant it when I said women weren't my area."

"Sherlock I don't hate you for being gay if that’s what the problem is. I could never. I can't even hate you. As much as I want to."

"No John. Stop interrupting me. You are an idiot. But I- it’s you. I love you. And Gemma and all these women you parade around. And that’s my problem not yours. I know it’s my fault. But I couldn’t do it. I understand if you want to mov-"

What was happening? John Watson was kissing me. He tasted like tea. I felt dizzy. But in a good way this time. It was like being high. Better even. We were flying. Just us. As it was. And as it should be. 

"Next time, don't kill yourself. Just talk to me. And for god sake. Brush your teeth."

John made a spitting noise. 

They laughed together. 

"I'm still mad. God I'm mad but that can wait."

And it did. Everything did. Just for this moment, everything waited.


	5. Epilogue

The arrival home from whatever make shift hospital Mycroft had me stored in was confusing. It was a mess of guilt and blame but also giddy delight. Mostly on my part, but I'd never admit it. Now I'm sitting on the couch, hugging my knees. A nervous energy pulsing through my body. My skin seemed to vibrate with anticipation. Anticipating what? This wasn't a situation I'd ever been in before. There he was. John. Still my hero. 

"I think it's time Sherlock. We have to talk about this."

My heart sank. I knew it was coming. He probably realised his mistake. It's hard enough living with someone who throws it all to the wind any time something gets a bit messy. 

"Wait! Before you say anything, please I don't want to lose you again so no more secrets? Ok?"

"You don't want to lose me? Again? But I'm literally the most frustrating, selfish and ignorant person I've ever met! John you never lost me. I thought I had lost you! It's disgusting how much I need you, how common it is of me to say but you are the only person who has ever made me feel like a person. Not a means to an end."

Standing up I run over to John. Gently reaching out to stroke his cheek, I look into his eyes. The world lives in them. He holds the world. 

"So, if you'll still have me."

"Sherlock of I course I still want you. I've always wanted you. I gave up roughly around, I don't know, you warning me away."

Once again we shared a laugh. I didn't want to break this moment. But I had to. It needed to be done. John must have noticed my expression change. Even an idiot could tell from this distance. Not that John was an idiot. Not even close John was...

"Sherlock. Whatever you're thinking. Stop it. I never knew what you meant when you told Anderson his thinking was too loud."

"John. I have to do this. You have to come with me. It's vital."

Ignoring any look of concern as I turned away, pulling John up the stairs to my bedroom. He needed to know. I needed to be free. We deserved to be free of the chains locking us to the events of last week. I pushed John onto my bed. Gesturing for patience. 

"Sherlock. What are you doing? It's a bit soon for all this isn't it?"

Ignoring that. Wait. No. I shouldn't be ignoring that. No secrets meant honesty. Even though he was probably joking. I move to kneel in front of him, taking his hands. 

"Just trust me John. I know it's hard but I'm giving you everything."

I reached past his legs to under the bed where the first aid kit was, pulling it free from its hiding place and finally placing it in Johns hands. 

"Sherlock what's happening? Are you hurt? How can you be hurt you were under Mycrofts eye for a week. My heart can't take much more of this."

"Open it."

"Sherl-"

"Just open it."

I watch as his face falls from confusion to fear and disappointment. Maybe a hint of guilt. It hurts to see but it's a disaster of my own making. 

"Wait. There's something else too."

The panel under the cupboard floor. I remove it and toss it inder the bed. No more hiding places. No more secrets. I hand John the few remaining syringes. All neatly wrapped in their plastic coverings. 

"That's all of it John. I swear."

"How can I know? How can I take your word for it? You lied to me Sherlock. You told me it was a case! You left me in the dark. Do you know how scary it is in the dark?"

Johns voice was wavering. I didn't want to make him cry. But there was no way around this. Only through. 

"John. I know it will take time for me to earn back your trust but I'd do anything! I swear to you I would get rid of this whole cupboard if you asked me to! I'd lock myself out of my room and sleep on the couch. I want to be as out in the open as I can. I want to put myself in the middle of a metaphorical field for you."

Johns head had sunk. And he was shaking. Was he crying? When did he start actually crying? That's not what Johns cry sounded like. He was laughing. Laughing at me? I can't even begin to understand. 

"Sherlock you absolute dolt. I don't want you to rid yourself of anything. I just want you. 100% you. Just less of this."

He emphasised his point by holding up the syringes. 

"I understand why. I think I do at least, not that anyone can fully understand whats going on up there."

He pressed lightly on my forehead. 

"Besides. It's not every day Sherlock offers to remove all privacy for you."

"John maybe, purely for trust and safety reasons. Maybe tonight I sleep in your bed. You know. There's no hiding anything there..."

John stood up and pulled me from my knees. Which now that everything is said and done, I feel grateful for. Legs not fully supporting me as he pulls me in for another kiss. This time my mouth doesn't taste like bile. This time it's not a 'thank god you're not gone kiss', well actually it is a little bit. At least for me. Time doesn't make any sense. It doesn't have to. Nothing had to wait for this moment because nothing was nearly as important. Not anymore. Not now that I have him. Truely have him. 

"That would be perfectly fine with me. Of course only for safety concerns."

Half holding John, half making sure he wouldn't run away, we made our way back to the couch. Bed time was later. Now we can just enjoy each others presence. John takes his new place at the end of the couch as I sprawl across it, feeling safe, this time. The warm glow of love and protection radiated off of John. My head in his lap as he gently plays with my curls. I can't stop looking at him. And I'm pretty sure that's how I'll fall asleep. Just looking up at this incredible man

**Author's Note:**

> This was written on my phone so formatting is a bit yikes. Anyway


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